


healing is an act of communion

by samesexes



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Racism, but more or less canon compliant, i am playing fast and loose with canon, lean more towards less
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samesexes/pseuds/samesexes
Summary: derek is tender and i love him. that is all.





	1. Chapter 1

You’ve taken shelter from the bite of a cloudy autumn day spent carrying boxes (only two, the rest of your things will be sent over, you’ll buy anything else you need) and a high-end suitcase that’s a slate grey colour you hate. Your driver wishes you all the best and goes back to a house you know is empty. No one is there, but you are here. You’re not alone.  
You had a Christmas weekend with your mother and a short phone call from your father. A boisterous student by the name of Knight asks if he can call you Derek and you tell him it’s your name, why couldn’t he? He doesn’t answer, really, but the warmth of his hand on your shoulder stays for a moment once he’s gone. The room is empty now, but you open a battered poetry book – _are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?_ You’re not alone.  
You’ve smuggled some makeup from the end of year production and you’re sure Andrew noticed but he doesn’t say a word. Back into your dorm room now, and you imagine your mother’s hand over yours, guiding, moving gently, making pretty. The sensation of the pencil against your lid is strange but once the mirror shows you the result, strange is not the worst thing to be. Then, it’s your fault. You told Phillips he could come by and grab your neck guard, so he did, then he saw _this_ and it’s so, so strange that he wants to laugh, but then he wants to ask, Nurse? and he must accuse, of course. Somehow, you know you called that upon yourself, so you answer.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re super smart so this is like, no surprise, but your brain must be able to handle some crazy ass frequencies if you listened to that like, all the time.” Chowder had sat up to alert when Derek pressed play and was slowly moving back to the edge of the bed, presumably to hang off of it.

“I don’t know why he’s… singing like that. But I liked it.” He tried not to be embarrassed about it, but teenage Derek had liked a lot of things about Vampire Weekend. _Is your bed made? Is your sweater on?_ Yes, Ezra. _Do you want to fuck?_ Yes, Ezra.

Chowder nodded thoughtfully in response, but his brain seemed to be sending messages to his face that were equally powerful and not in agreement. The result was a smile that kept slipping into a grimace, before righting itself into a neutral look of confusion and surprise. Derek supposed that California wasn’t particularly well known for this vein of hipstery bullshit, but Vampire Weekend couldn’t have been far off from what Chowder knew. He also supposed that Chowder’s not so secret love for Carly Rae Jepsen and quote “other powerful women composers like her”, told him that he had no idea what Chowder knew.

“For me… main thing that makes me feel nostalgic is Jake Long - _American Dragoooon_. Bro, I wanted to be him so bad! Like, fuck Danny Phantom.”

“Danny Phantom was kinda hot though.”

“Uh.”

Derek couldn’t tell whether Chowder’s face was flushed from embarrassment, from being upside down or, considering the intensity of red he was reaching, most likely a combination of both, but he did find it hilarious, and laughed so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair. Before falling into another laughing fit, he managed to moan an enthusiastic: “Fuuuck Danny Phantom! Fuck him so hard.” and Chowder’s responding groan fell easily into a snorting laugh.

“I see you’ve dragged Chowder down to your level of complete degeneracy, then.” Dex stood in the doorway, strange and intriguing, as always. It was as if he were a walking contradiction, shoulders broad but always hunched, face proud but chin tucked, feet planted a solid shoulder-width apart, but still somehow poised to make his escape.

Chowder didn’t respond to Dex’s observation and Derek tried not to notice it, not to think about it, but of course he did. So according to Dex, hanging out with a friend after hours spent studying meant being a degenerate and, of course, out of the two of them, he was the degenerate – which, side note, must’ve had the same implications as hoodlum, which meant that he had kind of just experienced a microaggression and, _hm_ , he should bring that up with Shitty at some point.

Derek wouldn’t bring up this incident specifically, because as much as he hated to admit it, he second guessed himself a lot when it came to Dex. He reasoned that they called each other names all the time, but he had learned that if it hurt, he should say something about it. If it called him back to days at Andover, to _there’s Big Diggy D, he’s gonna be trouble yo, fo’ shizzle_ , to _for goodness’ sake Derek can you please let these poor boys learn_ , to _why the fuck are you here?_ Then it wasn’t just fun between friends, it was… something he couldn’t describe. Something that was only backed up by the nameless feeling in his chest. Something he guessed he could call a microaggression but felt like so much more.

 

The Haus kitchen was filled with a level of noise not too far from what could often be heard in the Samwell lunch hall. Derek took in the gathering before him, as the smell of whatever it was they’d be having for dinner, courtesy of Bitty, and despite a protesting oven, washed over him. Chowder and Dex’s easy banter over the contents of the fridge, Ollie and Wicks listening intently to whatever weed related advice Shitty was sagely delivering as he waved around a half empty beer, the pensive sip he took when he was interrupted by an abrupt question from Tango. Jack watching on amused as Ransom and Holster debated the ethical concerns around pest extermination, whilst Lardo reiterated her point that cockroaches could be used for milk.

“Not- please not in the kitchen over the food, Lardo.”

“Nothing wrong with a little cock milk, Bits.”

“Oh Lord…”

Holster slid off the counter to take the plate Bitty held out for him, wearing a sheepish look, apologetic for his part in the discussion, and Bitty responded with a pointed look of his own; _I’m used to it_. Derek fought the urge to announce himself, or play off Lardo’s, frankly, genius line with a quip of his own, and fought down particularly hard, the urge to say anything, of any tone, to Dex. He chose instead to stand and watch, to let himself be a part of something, without trying to look like he wasn’t trying, and revelled in the feeling.

 

Derek started at the sharp tap on his right shoulder, turning at a speed which, if he had been on his feet, would be dangerous for him to be moving at.

“Hi. Sorry.” Rhys stood over him, bundled in layers of clothing from what seemed to be a streetwear brand that Derek probably couldn’t pronounce. He kept his voice low, despite being in the group study section of the library, and placed his thermos beside the sprawl of books and notes on the desk.

“It’s chill. Crowe’s module busting your ass too?”

“I’m fucking ruined. Just had an appointment with him and I could see the hope leaving his eyes.” He wasn’t laughing, but something in the tone of his voice told Derek that he was being dry.

“Ah, so he’s finally seen past the fake accent.” Rhys let out a low chuckle, and Derek allowed himself to enjoy the way his heart picked up when he realised he’d made a cute guy laugh. So, maybe he had a crush. Infatuation was a better word for it, or at least, it felt far more grounded, mature, came with a certain level of self-awareness, which he needed, because it definitely was not going to happen.

They let conversation dwindle, opting instead to focus on their work, Derek editing a piece from his workshop, that he soon realised he needed time away from, so he could look at it again later with a fresh eye. He also needed to start heading out for dinner, but Rhys seemed engrossed in his assignment, scrawling across his page without pause, and Derek had definitely not been thinking about adjusting his plans to compensate for dinner for two, because they weren’t really studying together, and even if they were, it didn’t mean they had to eat together too.

So if Derek casually waited until Rhys was done and started heading out first, he could casually mention dinner and it would all be spontaneous and effortless, somehow. 


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s nice, ain’t it?”

“Hm?”

“Bein’ in love,” Bitty wore an expression that was his own specific combination of reassuring and aware, but unaffected, leaving Derek just as much room as he needed to make his answering move. “Bein’ loved in return?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty nice.” he made sure to pause, hold a moment with the man in front of him, until they both let it break, Bitty retrieving a pair of sunglasses from the coffee table before breezing out of the room, Derek dropping his gaze back down to his phone. He pushed away the need to chastise himself, _(it’s only been two months, man, chill.)_ then felt that need disappear entirely when his phone buzzed again.

**R:**

**I don’t talk like this D !!!**

**but I do like “I can feel your pulse in the pages”**

Derek applied a level of analysis to the 11 words on the screen in front of him, that would probably rocket him to the top of his class if he had applied it to any 11 words of his assigned reading, but something that moved like a flutter in his chest, and felt like a surge of affection, told him that this was a much better use of his ability.

**_terry meets julie… i get by with a little help from my friends…._ **

**R:**

**Its nice that you do your research when youre bullying me <3**

Derek had to think for a moment. He figured that, if loving someone was something you did, rather than felt, then maybe it was too soon to be actively doing it. But since love could be whatever he made of it, since love had always been something he took when he could get, and never expected, for it to creep up on him now really wasn’t all that surprising.

He gleefully noted that he wasn’t spiralling _(I miss you, they don’t care, you always leave me here, they don’t even love each other, Nanny Yolanda loves me more than both of you, you don’t have to come, yeah, my teacher will call- email should be fine, he enjoys being in Dubai, that’s nice, see you next week, the flight’s landed already?)_ , and how easy and inevitable it all felt and, God, maybe for once, he wouldn’t have to fight.

**_this is how I show affection so get used to it <3_ **

 

There wasn’t much room for what ifs, bruised bodies and egos taking up most of the space as they changed. Derek felt he could spend his whole life trying to describe the way a locker room felt when it held the losing team, infinite variations of moving parts that didn’t come together quite right on the day.

Draw the moment into focus, he told himself, all he needed to do now was shower, change, and head back to his room, they’d go over the match tomorrow, see where they went wrong, and work on it for next time. Then onto the next thing, when it came, as it came. Mindfulness or whatever. He heard Inez’s affirming _, that’s good Derek, these techniques really can make a change with repeated use_. Fortunately, their time together had helped him reach a point of clarity, helped him understand he played hockey because he loved it, and eventually shed his need to use the sport to prove his worth. The same couldn’t be said, he thought, for Dex.

“–in the perfect spot and he’s –”

“Hm.” Ransom warmed the shea butter that, if Derek remembered correctly, his cousin usually supplied him between his palms, before rubbing it on his bare chest. He wanted to be certain it was the organic kind that she brought, so he kept watching the motion of Ransom’s hands, just to be sure.

“—not gonna take responsibility and get away with shit, because I really don’t think you’re actually fu- you’re listening to—”

“Dex. Pack it in.” Jack continued as a small quiet filled the room, in the same stern tone. “You know we talk things through in the morning, when everyone’s slept on whatever they have to say. So, I’m guessing Rans might forgive you for talking to him like that, after a solid 7 hours.”

“It’s forgiven already, man.”

He packed away his gear to the sound of Dex’s profuse apologising, his admission that he was just taking his own shit out on his teammates, and that it was wrong of him. Sparing a glance up, Derek noticed the redness at the tips of his ears and, _huh_ , he must have really meant it, because nothing got Dex embarrassed like unreserved earnestness. A few minutes later and he was done, offering his final _Sorry, man_ , and Derek hoped he wasn’t projecting, but Ransom’s easy smile didn’t hide the way he seemed thoroughly over it, and very ready to get back to the Haus, bag already slung over his shoulder.

He had to give Dex some credit, self-flagellation couldn’t have been easy in such a tender time. Then, he had to retract around 80% of that credit, as he watched Dex walk out of the locker room without another word. Derek would be willing to skate onto the ice; strip naked; and lie there for as long as he could without causing any long-lasting damage, if he was wrong about which grievances Dex would be airing in the morning, after he’d had plenty of time to sleep on them.

 

Derek snuck a warm hand under Rhys’ shirt, exposing his back as they kissed. Away from prying eyes, they finally grew more and more passionate, releasing the breathy moans that were impossible to hear over the deafening music that served as fuel to the partygoers down below. No longer restricting the wandering of their hands, or hips, he felt himself grow increasingly eager, unable to distinguish who was pushing, who was pulling, but letting himself be swayed by the rolling motions rocking them both at their cores.

Rhys stilled suddenly, opting for closed-mouth kisses along his jaw, then muttered, low and husky, into his ear. Derek paused his own movements to respond but lacked the patience for anything more time consuming than a few urgent yeses, quickly resuming the upwards thrust of his hips as he chased his own pleasure.

He wanted to chastise himself for acting like a horny teenager, reminiscent of his earlier experiences, but the circumstances were so overwhelmingly different, Derek couldn’t bring himself to make the comparison. They weren’t exactly taking their time, but still didn’t feel rushed, a far cry from desperate hands groping in the most well-hidden corners, flinching then freezing at every sound for fear of being caught, not a minute to spare for kisses, or caresses.   

He couldn’t view those moments in too negative a light, apprehensive of how that light could be reflected onto him. Derek knew how powerful fear was, how it had stopped him from being introduced to himself, whilst it had seemed that everyone around him had reached liveable arrangements with whatever feelings had begun to take residence within them. There were a few exceptions, individuals who’d shared his particular species of inhabitants, and he hoped they were all doing well, although he had long since decided to break all his promises to keep in touch. He figured he was too busy forgiving himself, to be trying to needle apologies out of people towards whom he couldn’t hold any grievances, without buckling under their weight.

 

The teasing was well meaning, and inevitable, but after five minutes it seemed incessant. Derek supposed he could inform them that they were doing a little too much, but he didn’t really want to, and he had settled very easily into the habit of only doing what he wanted. Hence his current shirtless state, regardless of whatever marks were laid out on the landscape of his body, including a particularly large one on his collarbone that Derek guessed was the cause for Chowder’s exclamation of: “Holy shit, Nursey!”.

“Guys. Chill.”

“Look, guys,” Shitty started, _and here we go_ , “It’s pretty obvious that Mr. Nurse here isn’t the only member of our team who is… slammin’ ass, engaging in intercourse, bumping uglies, basting his tur- I digress. I think it’s only fair, to turn our attention to one Mr. Poindexter.”

“I’m exercising my right to be excluded from this disgusting conversation.”

“Yeah, me having consensual, loving sex with my boyfriend is real disgusting.” Derek could feel the air turn sour around him. “Thanks for pointing that out, Dex.”

Maybe he hadn’t taken on the coaxing, deft approach that Bitty would have, gently suggesting Dex come inside and help him get a start on a pie he was working on, then responding in private. Or the stern, but fair, guidance Ransom would have given; or Chowder’s signature low “Dude…” through gritted teeth; and he was definitely far from delivering a Shitty-style, condescending, twenty-minute rant on the beauty of male sexuality that would’ve been so long-winded and self-involved, any reprimanding sentiment would get lost. Maybe the late afternoon SMH festivities would have carried on without a blip if he hadn’t said anything at all, but Derek was not going to let fucking Dex, of all people, make him feel guilty, or strange, for a single thing.

“You think I wanna hear about you having sex? With anyone?”

Derek fought through the nameless feeling in his chest to respond. “You think I wanna hear what you have to say about my sex life? Fuck off.”

Dex did exactly that, as Lardo stared after him, concerned. Moments passed in silence until Holster stuck an inquisitive head out of the window, not too far above them.

“Is something… did something… is… do we need a team meeting?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is all we have so far (except a tentative beginning for chapter 3) and hopefully i'll be able to write and post semi regularly, but in the event that i don't: remember i am loving derek 24/7
> 
> on a serious note! i hope you enjoyed what you've read so far!


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